A Time to Heal
by Jhana
Summary: Begins two weeks after Normal Again. Buffy struggles to deal with everything that has happened. Worried about her, the gang seek out a therapist who deals with the occult. Buffy reluctanty agrees to see her.
1. Back to Normal Again?

Buffy pushed her honey-colored hair back from her face as she dropped the last of the dirty bowls in to the sink.  I guess the vacation is over, she thought.  When she went into the kitchen this morning after Dawn left for school, there were dirty dishes piled beside the sink for the first time in two weeks.

Buffy suppressed a shudder and resolutely plunged her hands in the water.  Two weeks ago.  Fourteen days since she had tried to kill her friends and her sister.  They were all still walking on eggshells around her.  Flashes of herself in the mental institution still plagued her at night.  During the day, she could convince herself that this was her real life, the other just a demon-drug induced hallucination.

But at night, lying alone in her dark room, she wondered if this were really the nightmare.  It was all made worse when Buffy remembered that one split second in which she had wished that the other life were the real one.  How much simpler it would be.  

Buffy sighed as she laid the last of bowls in the dish rack.  She knew that wasn't true.  Despite all the pain of the last year, she had so much here.  A family that had pulled her back to this world in the end.  Dawn, the sister she had never had.  Willow, her best friend.  Xander, always there for her.  Even Spike.  

Buffy suppressed a wave of longing.  She hadn't seen Spike since he gave her that ultimatum in her bedroom.  The one that had pushed her over the edge and sent her running for the simplicity of the mental institution.  Tell your friends about us, or I will.  For the millionth time, Buffy ran through her head all the reasons she couldn't tell her friends about her relationship, or whatever it was, with Spike.  They would never understand, they would hate her, or perhaps even worse, they would pity her.

"I would have done those," Willow said from the doorway, causing Buffy to jump.  The slender red-head took the washcloth from Buffy's hand and pushed her toward the living room.  "Why don't you go lay down?"

"That's all I've been doing for the last two weeks, Will," Buffy responded, still not quite able to meet her friend's eyes.  This must be how Willow felt when she almost killed Dawn, Buffy thought.  "I feel fine."

Willow regarded her with a long, searching look.  "You don't look fine.  You're like a ghost around here.  You haven't eaten anything in days."

Buffy knew that Willow was right.  She had thought that nothing could be worse than the pain of being pulled back to this world from heaven.  But she felt even worse now than she had for the last several months.  She could barely drag herself out of bed in the morning.  "I'm fine, Will.  I just, I can't stop thinking about what I almost did to you, and," Buffy's voice started to crack.

"Buffy, it's okay," Willow said, putting her arms around the Slayer.  "It wasn't you.  We all know that.  You were sick.  I know you would never hurt me."

The forgiveness was almost more than Buffy could stand.  She started to pull away, but Willow pulled her toward the kitchen table.  "Buffy, I know this year has been really hard on you.  We've all been worried about you."  Willow stopped and slipped something out of her jeans pocket.  She laid the small white rectangle on the table in front of Buffy.  "Tara did some asking around.  She's supposed to be really good."

Buffy picked up the card.  Dr. Amanda Newton, Ph.D.  She looked up at Willow, then back at the card.  Psychotherapist.  "Will, I can't tell anyone about the things I've been through.  Who would believe me?  I'd end up in that mental hospital for real."  She sighed and placed the card back on the table.

"That's the great thing, Buffy," Willow said before she could get up.  "She's not just a regular doctor.  Tara checked her out.  She's also a Witch.  She knows all about demons and magick and,"

Buffy interrupted, "I get it, Will.  She's in the know.  But what if,"

Now it was Willow's turn to interrupt, "Just call her.  What can it hurt?  If it doesn't help, you don't go back."

Buffy considered her friend for a moment, then started to refuse.  

"I just can't stand seeing you like this," Willow said softly.  

Buffy stopped.  What could it hurt?  It certainly couldn't make things worse.  She reached for Willow's hand, "Okay, Will.  I'll call her, see what she says.  I'm not making any promises."

"I know, Buffy.  I just want to help."

"We'll see what she can do."


	2. Chapter Two

Buffy walked up to the front of the big Victorian-style house.  _A nice looking place anyway_, she thought.  She was still a little wary about this whole idea.  She didn't know much about therapists, but she had liked Mr. Platt, the school guidance counselor.  She had enjoyed talking to him, even though it was just one more hoop set up by that weasel Snyder.  Too bad his throat had been torn out.  Buffy had actually felt like he understood.

Trying to put the grim thoughts behind her, Buffy resolutely pushed the front door open.  She entered into a small, but nicely furnished waiting room.  An older woman sat at the desk opposite the door.  "Can I help you, honey?" she called to Buffy.

"I have an appointment?" Buffy said hesitantly, not really meaning to make it sound like a question.

The woman looked down at the book on her desk and smiled invitingly.  "Sure, Buffy Summers, 2:00.  It's right here," she said, tapping the book.  She held out her hand then, "I'm Marilyn.  We spoke on the phone."

Buffy shook the woman's hand.  Buffy had thought her voice was familiar.  She'd been a little nervous when she called, but the woman had put her at ease.  "Yes, I remember."

The woman chuckled and motioned for Buffy to have a seat.  "It's always hard the first time you call," she said reassuringly and Buffy glanced at her sharply.  "Oh, no, honey.  I don't read minds.  I've just been doing this a long time.  I was Amanda, Dr. Newton's, father's secretary for twelve years until he died eight years ago.  I've been with Amanda since then."

Buffy nodded, not really sure what to say.  She was silent while the woman reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a stack of papers.  "This is some paperwork for you to fill out before you go in.  Just the usual name, address, insurance," she stopped then and looked up at Buffy, "Do you have insurance?"

Buffy shook her head slowly.  Was this all for nothing?  She hadn't even thought about how she would pay for this.  But the woman just nodded again and reached for another sheet, "It's okay, honey.  Just sign this at the bottom.  Amanda uses a sliding scale.  She'll work something out so that you can pay what you can."  She handed all the papers to Buffy on a clipboard.  "If you have any questions, just ask.  That's what I'm here for."

Buffy thanked the woman and turned to the first sheet.  Name, address, telephone, all good.  Pretty basic background stuff.  She carefully filled out the form, pausing only to consider the medical history section.  Should she list being dead for 3 months?  She decided to go ahead and list it.  After all, if the woman couldn't take that, she would never be able to help Buffy.

After completing the background information, Buffy read through the informed consent.  It specifically said that everything she said would be completely confidential unless someone was in danger.  Buffy chuckled slightly.  In Buffy's world, someone was always in danger.  She signed the form anyway.

Just as she finished signing the last form, the fee waiver, a black haired woman came to the door of the waiting room.  She was in her early thirties and a few inches taller than Buffy.  Dressed casually in blue dress, she didn't look like a doctor.  Buffy couldn't help but notice the silver pentacle that hung on a chain around her neck.

She approached Buffy and held out her hand.  "I'm Dr. Newton, Miss Summers, but you can call me Amanda.  Why don't you bring those papers along with you and come on back to my office."  

Buffy followed the doctor out of the waiting room and into a pleasantly lit office.  A large mahogany desk stood in one corner, but Amanda didn't go to the desk.  Rather, she motioned for Buffy to have a seat in one of the comfortable looking wing chairs clustered on the opposite side of the room.  "Unless you'd rather sit on the couch," she said, referring to the loveseat against the other wall.

"No, this is fine," Buffy said.  The room didn't look anything like what Buffy had imagined.  A pair of white and black candles burned on the mantle over the fireplace and Buffy could hear the low murmur of a water fountain on the desk.  The room had the slight smell of sage and several other herbs Buffy recognized from Willow's magickal work.

"I'll take those," Amanda said, taking the chair opposite Buffy.  She flipped through the papers, skipping the background information sheet.  "Do you have any questions about the paperwork you filled out?" she asked. 

"Marilyn, ah, your secretary, said that you could do a fee waiver, ah, thing?  I don't have any insurance," Buffy finished in a rush.

"Why don't you tell me what brings you here today first?  If we decide to work together, we can work out the money at the end."

Buffy nodded and took a deep breath.  "I'm not sure where to begin."

It was Amanda's turn to nod.  "Just start at the beginning."

The beginning, where was that?  "Okay," Buffy said, "I guess the beginning is, well, I'm the Slayer."  She stopped, letting the word hang in the air between them.

But Amanda just nodded, "I thought there was something different about you."

Buffy's jaw dropped a little.  "You know what the Slayer is?"

"Of course, 'One girl in all the world,' and so on.  I am quite versed in these things."  She stopped then and regarded Buffy with a long look.  "But you knew that.  That's why you came to me."

"But I wasn't really sure I believed it," Buffy replied.

"So, you're the Slayer," she said, glancing down at he background sheet she still held in her hand, "You're twenty-one, you've been the Slayer for a while.  I'd imagine you've seen quite a few things.  What brings you here now?"

Buffy paused again, then slowly said, "Well, ah, I died in the spring of last year."  She paused again.

This time she did get an eyebrow-raise from Amanda.  "I see.  Why don't you tell me about it?"

Buffy related the events that led up to her dive from the tower.  Dawn, Riley, her mom's death, Glory, Ben, everything.  Well, almost everything.  In the whole story, she hadn't mentioned Spike.  "I was just so tired," she said, "Death was my gift.  But my death wasn't just my gift to the world, to stop the barriers from coming down."  She paused, then said softly, "My death was my gift to myself."  

This was the first time she had ever told anyone what had happened.  Willow, Xander, Dawn, they had all been there.  They knew what had happened.  There was no need to recount the events that led up to her decision to jump.  And the fact that she had welcomed it, that she had jumped to save herself as much as them?  She had never told anyone that.  Not even Spike, with whom she had shared the most about her death.

Amanda nodded, "It was a courageous thing to do."

"No," Buffy said sharply.  Then more quietly, "Yeah, you'd think it was.  But it wasn't.  It was selfish and weak.  I just couldn't live anymore.  Suicide is still suicide even when it's for a noble cause."  There is was.  Suicide.  Buffy hadn't realized before that she felt that way about her death.  She knew the coming back was hard, but she hadn't realized that she felt so guilty for the way she had died.

"And is that so bad?  Is there a time when you get to do something for yourself?"

The image of herself and Spike, rolling in the rubble of the fallen down house flashed through her mind, but Buffy shoved it ruthlessly away.  That was just something she couldn't deal with now.  Not when she was so raw from recounting last year's events.  "That doesn't make it right.  I'm the Slayer.  My job is to take care of the world, not to feel sorry for myself.  There was no Slayer because of me.  I knew Faith was out of commission, but I didn't care.  I left the world with no protection.  My friends with no protection.  My sister."  On the last word, Buffy's voice broke.  She stopped, tears coming to her eyes.

"Do you love your sister, Buffy?"

Buffy wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, "Of course I do.  What kind of question is that?  She's my sister."

"But she isn't, really, is she?" Amanda replied.

"She's more than that.  She's me.  The monks made her from me.  We're the same, flesh and blood."

"So, jumping, it wasn't completely selfish.  Partly, yes.  Partly a desperate act.  But not completely selfish.  After all, you left a part of yourself here.  You saved the world from destruction."  Amanda paused for emphasis.  "So I ask again.  Where is the room for taking care of you in all of this?"

Buffy stopped and considered what the therapist was saying.  Was that true?  Not completely selfish?  Did that make it better?

"Our time is up," Amanda said gently, bringing Buffy's thoughts back to the present.  "Now it's time for a decision.  Do you want to come back?"

"Do you think you can help me?"  Buffy asked.

Amanda sighed, "It's not so much a matter of me helping you, Buffy.  The question is, can I convince you to help yourself?  I have a feeling there is a lot more to this story that I haven't heard.  I sense a lot more pain, more recent pain, that you haven't shared with me yet.  I think we need to get that out on the table between us."

"Yes," Buffy said, "I'd like to come back."  Then she paused, "But I can't really pay very much, when my mom, well, Dawn and I don't have much."

"How does ten dollars a session sound?" the doctor asked, carrying the fee waiver to the desk.

"Ten dollars?  That's all?"

"I can afford to take in some pro bono work.  I build it in as part of my schedule.  Anyway," she said with a smile, "I'll just consider this my contribution to the fight against evil."

Buffy smiled, too, for what felt like the first time in two weeks.  "I think I can handle that."

"Same time next week, then?"


	3. Chapter Three

Buffy stepped out of the shower and pulled the towel from the bar.  As she pressed the towel to her face, she licked her lips, tasting the salt there from her tears.  How many times now had she done this, stood in the shower so that Dawn couldn't hear her crying?  A dozen?  Two dozen?  When Riley left, when her mom died, when she realized that she couldn't possibly defeat Glory?  And that just before she died.  

She could hear Dawn moving around in the kitchen downstairs.  Buffy tried to take a few deep breaths while she dried herself and pulled her clothes on, but her throat was still tight.  She felt scraped raw all over.  She certainly hadn't realized that seeing Amanda would hurt this much.  After all, she had gone only to make Willow feel better.  She hadn't really had any intention of telling the doctor anything.

But something about Amanda made Buffy want to trust her.  Maybe it was the way that she didn't really look like a doctor, but an older sister?  Or was it the comforting smell of incense and candles in the room?  Or maybe Buffy had _really_ wanted to tell someone, and just hadn't realized it?

She had to admit that as much as it hurt, it had helped to talk about it.  Until this afternoon, she hadn't consciously realized that she thought of her death as suicide rather than sacrifice.  Was Amanda right?  Did the sacrifice outweigh the selfishness?  Was it even selfishness?  After all, if she hadn't jumped, the world would have been destroyed.  Or Dawn would have died.  For the first time since she'd come back, Buffy felt that a tiny bit of the weight she didn't even realize she was carrying had been lifted.  

That was certainly new.  Lately, it had seemed that every day just piled more misery on her shoulders.  What was that old saying, "Time heals all wounds?"  It seemed for Buffy that time just gave the universe a chance to think up new punishments.  Checking her reflection in mirror for puffy eyes and tear stains, Buffy pronounced her look passable and padded down the stairs.

"Did you leave any hot water for me?" Dawn asked as Buffy entered the kitchen.

Buffy ignored her sister's jab and went to the refrigerator.  _At least some things never change_, she thought.  Dawn had stopped tiptoeing around her days ago.  She was back in her bitchy teenager persona.  

"Your manager at work called," Dawn said, licking pancake batter off the spoon in her hand.  "They want you to come in early tomorrow.  Jim somebody called off."

"Pancakes for dinner again, Dawn?" Buffy replied, trying to force the idea of going to the Doublemeat Palace tomorrow out of her mind.

"Well, it's not like you ever cook anything," Dawn said, turning back to the stove.

_Score another hit for Dawn_, Buffy thought.  _One more strike like that and she'll sink my battleship._  "Is Willow home yet?"

"I think she's up in her room.  She was asking about you before, something about a doctor's visit today."  Dawn stopped and looked at Buffy, "Are you sick?"  A split second of concern passed over her face.

"No, it wasn't that kind of doctor."  Then Buffy stopped.  Should she tell her sister she was seeing a therapist?  She'd find out eventually anyway, and then be mad at Buffy for not telling her.  So, Buffy said, "She's like a counselor."

Dawn groaned.  "Just don't make any wishes," she replied, deftly flipping another pancake onto the plate.

Buffy smiled wryly.  "Don't worry, I won't," she said, taking plates and silverware to the table.  After the horrific events of her last birthday, she certainly wouldn't be doing any wishing any time soon.  And certainly not with Anya still missing.  Getting on the wrong side of a vengeance demon was not a good idea in Buffy's book.

As Buffy sat the maple syrup and butter on the table, Dawn went to the stairs and called for Willow.  Buffy sized up the huge stack of pancakes.  "Are all those for the three of us?"

Dawn shook her head, "Willow said that Xander might stop by.  I guess he doesn't really like eating at his place, alone and all."

But Xander didn't show.  The three girls stuffed themselves with pancakes and still had a pile left when they called it quits.  "I wonder where Xander is," Willow said as they carried the dishes back to the sink.

"Maybe he's still looking for Anya," Buffy replied.  Xander hadn't really been himself since the wedding debacle.

"So how did it go today?" Willow asked, not so smoothly changing the subject.

"Not so bad.  She was nice.  I guess I'm going to go back next week."

"Does this mean you really are crazy?" Dawn asked with her usual tact.  At times, Buffy wondered if her little sis were channeling Anya.

"It doesn't mean she's crazy," Willow admonished.  "It's just so that she has someone to talk to."

Dawn threw the dishrag on the counter.  "So she won't talk to us, but she can go talk to some stranger.  Just perfect," she said in an angry voice and she stalked out of the kitchen.

'Dawn," Buffy said, starting to go after all, but Willow stopped her.

"Just let her go.  This has been hard on her, too."

"I know, Will," Buffy said, dropping down into a chair.  "It just seems like I can't say anything right."

"She'll come around," Willow replied.  Though the red-head had become a little more cynical in the last year, she still often displayed her old optimism.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Buffy agreed, not really agreeing with her at all.  It seemed that Dawn just got more angry every day, not less.  Maybe she should go see Amanda, too.  "Do you think you can get these dishes," Buffy said with a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired.  "I think I'm going to go up to bed.  I have to go into work early tomorrow."  She left the kitchen without waiting for Willow's response.

*******************

The back door of the Doublemeat Palace closed heavily behind Buffy as she left.  She glanced down at her watch.  10:15, a half hour later than she was scheduled to work.  And she had even come in four hours early this morning.  She was still trying to get back in the manager's good graces after walking off the job when Riley had shown up.  At least she didn't have to close tonight.  She would still be home before Dawn went to bed.  Not that Dawn would talk to her anyway.  An angry glare before bedtime was pretty much all Buffy could count on from her sister.

Buffy started down the street toward home.  She was so lost in her thoughts about Dawn that she was almost to the end of the block when she realized that someone was following her.  She turned quickly to find Spike loitering a few steps behind her.

Ruthlesslessly suppressing the little thrill that went through her at the sight of him, she asked in a tired voice, "What do you want now, Spike?"

The handsome vampire shrugged.  Instead of his usually sarcastic comeback, he mumbled, "Wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine, Spike.  I just, I don't have the energy to deal with you right now."  

Buffy turned to walk away and he called from behind her, "Did you tell your friends about us yet?"

Buffy knew the last two weeks had been too easy.  At first, she had waited uneasily for Spike to follow through on his threat.  After he hadn't even come around for a week, she began to breath easier.  Of course, she had no intention of telling her friends about Spike.  But she just didn't have the strength to ensure that he didn't, either.  When she turned to face him, Spike was standing right behind her.  "You know I didn't, Spike.  Just like you know I'm not going to."

"I didn't think so, luv.  That would be too easy.  Why not wallow in it a while longer?"  He reached out for her.  For a moment, she fought the urge to step toward him, then stepped away instead.  As if he could read the indecisiveness on her face, Spike chuckled.  "Go ahead, pet, fight it.  Why give in to what you want, when it's so much easier to be miserable."

"Shut up, Spike.  You don't know anything about this, anything about me," Buffy snapped back.

Despite her angry words, this time, when he reached for her, Buffy allowed him to pull her against him.  _To prove he has to affect on me_, she told herself.  Certainly not because she wanted to feel his arms around her.

"Don't I, pet?  I'd wager I know more about you than the Scoobies do."  When she didn't respond, he pressed his lips to soft flesh behind her ear and added softly, "Or have you told them how you like it when I,"

"Don't!" she cried, pulling away.

"Bloody hell, Slayer!  Don't!  Is that the only word you know?" he yelled back at her, trying to reach for her again.  When she danced away from him, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, as if trying to stop himself from reaching for her again.  "Fine," he growled angrily, "But the deal still stands.  You have one more week to find the guts to tell your friends what you've been doing in the dark, or I do.  It's up to you."  With that he melted into the darkness, leaving Buffy standing on the street alone.


End file.
